


Home for Christmas

by xxCat1989xx



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9311429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxCat1989xx/pseuds/xxCat1989xx
Summary: Late Christmas fic! Sorry.Mitch is alone at Christmas. Scott has to get home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted it to be finished and posted by Boxing Day but it kind of ran away from me. 
> 
> Thanks & enjoy,  
> Cat x
> 
> P.S. S/O to Google Maps for helping with journey times. :D

_23 rd December_

"You sure you're gonna be okay until Mike and Nel get here tomorrow?" Scott asks Mitch as he goes flying through the lounge on the way to the kitchen. His socked feet slip on the newly cleaned tile floor and he can’t stifle a giggle at his own clumsiness as he grabs the counter to steady himself.

Now he’s here Scott can’t remember for the life of him what he needed from the kitchen. He surveys the room and shrugs. Can’t have been important if he can’t remember what it was. It’s not like Scott’s going to be gone for a month; five days he’d told his mom on the phone. _Five days and I need to get home to pack for Iceland,_ he'd said.

 _I need to get home to Mitch_ is what he didn’t tack on the end.

Walking back towards the lounge area, Scott leans against the door frame and looks over at his friend sat on the sofa. He doesn’t have time for Mitch-watching but if he’s not going to see him for nearly a week ( _five days_ he has to keep reminding himself) Scott needs to get his fill now. Especially as a car is booked to pick him up in less than an hour.

Mitch is engrossed in whatever it is he’s looking at on his phone, absentmindedly sipping from the Starbucks cup in his other hand. Sitting cross-legged in boxers and Scott’s On the Run tank that’s the size of a tent on him, his hair sticking up in tufts from where he’d been lying on it and eyes squinting behind his glasses as he wakes up, Mitch is the definition of gorgeous. Perfectly arched eyebrows, beautiful brown eyes, gorgeous pink lips. Scott's thankful that, even after living together for five years, Mitch isn’t bored of him, and he gets to see this sight every single morning.

As he’s admiring his best friend, a look flits across Mitch’s face, one that pulls down the corners of his pretty mouth. If it wasn’t for the fact that they’ve known each other for fifteen years, and stopped being able to hide things from each other when they were twelve, Scott would’ve missed it. It’s there and gone in the blink of an eye, but it makes Scott frown in concern.

“What’s up, boo?” Scott asks, pushing off the door frame and walking over to Mitch. His packing can wait a minute. Scott sits on the sofa, reaching over and placing his hand on Mitch’s arm. His skin is soft and warm as Scott rubs his thumb over the dark hairs.

“Nothing,” Mitch answers abruptly, putting a stop to Scott's questioning. He takes one final sip of his drink before leaning forward to put the empty cup on the coffee table, slipping his arm from Scott’s hold in the process. “What time are you leaving? Have you finished packing yet?”

Scott supresses a sigh. He knows not to push. Mitch will come to him if something is bothering him.

"Car’s due at nine."

He stands from the sofa and makes his way back to his room. As he crosses the threshold he remembers it was his phone charger he needed.

\--

Scott’s only been gone for twelve hours but the feeling of missing Mitch is making his skin itch and his blood buzz in his veins. He hasn’t been able to sit still for hours. It’s like his body knows something is amiss. Of course he’s been away from Mitch for longer than this before, but he can’t remember the last time he felt it so deep. Lindsay took his phone off him after he checked his texts for the twentieth time that afternoon, rolling her eyes and vowing to give it back only if someone called. He really needs to get a grip on his feelings before they ruin his friendship.

It’s never been this bad. It’s always been there; the deep, intense love for his best friend. Ever since they were kids. When they came out at roughly the same time, people assumed they were going to get together, but Scott was too scared. Scared that Mitch didn’t feel the same way about him, scared that he was feeling that way because they were two inexperienced teens thrust into the unknown together, and then eventually scared to ruin what they had when their friendship became the most important thing in his life.

He’s fine with being friends. He’s been fine with it for a decade. The feeling fades whenever Scott gets a new boyfriend, intent on concentrating on the other person and only the other person. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone otherwise. And the last thing he wants to do is pass up on someone who could be the love of his life (though he’d long stopped believing in that when he realised that _Mitch_ was that person). But since splitting with Alex earlier in the year, his feelings for Mitch have increased exponentially to the point where Scott feels like he’s going to scream if he doesn’t tell someone soon.

It’s coming up to 10pm when he enters the kitchen to find his mom cleaning up the few cups and plates they’ve used that evening. He can hear his sisters in the other room laughing at something his dad’s said and the sound makes him smile. Scott doesn’t get to see his family anywhere near as much as he’d like. He really cherishes the time he gets with them at Christmas.

Stepping up to his mom’s side, he drags the towel off the side, taking the wine glass from her hand and drying it before placing it in the cupboard over his head. They continue like this in silence until everything is washed and dried and it’s just Scott repeatedly folding the towel in his hands. He’s working himself up to tell her about his feelings for Mitch when she surprises him by asking “how's Mitch?” like she can read his mind.

Resisting the urge to gush over how wonderful his friend is, he replies, “He’s great. His usual, sassy self.” _This is it_ , he thinks.

“Good, good. I thought he might have come with you today. He knows he’s always welcome here, right? I know Christmas is family time but he’s very much been a part of this family for years.” _The moment is here_.

“I know. He knows. But Nel and Mike are flying out to him tomorrow. They wanted to see the new house.” _Mom, I’m in love with Mitch_ , he repeats over and over in his head, hoping the words will come out of his mouth.

Connie looks at him in confusion for a second before it clears. “Oh, right. It’s just Nel called earlier and asked if we could pop to the shops for them as they had to cancel the trip and had no food in the house. I thought Mitch would’ve booked a later flight out.”

All thoughts of telling her disappear. “What?" Scott shakes his head. "No, Mitch would’ve told me that. Are you sure?” Scott asks, worry lacing his words. He really hopes that his mom has it wrong and he’s not abandoned his best friend at Christmas. No matter how much he wants to see his family, Mitch would have taken priority. He freezes when he realises that's exactly why Mitch wouldn’t say anything to him.

“Dammit Mitch.” He drops the towel on the side with a groan.

“What’s up, love?” she asks, placing her hand on his arm in concern.

“He knows how much I was looking forward to this trip. It’s why he didn’t tell me.” Scott scrubs at his face, making his skin flush.

Connie takes one of his hands in hers and rubs her thumb over the back of it. Scott's suddenly really thankful for her. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his parents to death, will do anything for them, will move stars in the sky if it were possible, but at the moment, with her looking at him with concern and trying to comfort him with the simplest of gestures, he doesn’t think he’s ever loved her more.

“What do I do?” he asks.

“How about I make you a cup of tea and you call Mitchell and see how he is?” She says it like it's the most obvious answer the world. Scott nods seriously and heads back to the lounge to ask his sister for his phone. Thirty seconds later, Scott's listening to the dial tone, waiting for his best friend to answer. The call beeps as it connects and a tired “hello?” greets him.

“Hey, babe, you okay?” Scott asks, stepping back into the dining room for privacy. He does _not_ appreciate the raised eyebrows from his family at the term of endearment for his friend.

“Scotty, I’m fine. Why are you calling? Is everything okay?” Mitch responds, quietly.

Scott laughs softly at the concern. “Maybe I should be asking you that. Why didn’t you tell me Nel and Mike weren’t coming for Christmas?” Scott waits a couple of seconds but when he gets no response he whispers, “Mitchy?”

“Who- who told you?”

“Mom, but it doesn’t matter. Why didn’t _you_ tell me? Dammit, Mitch. I would’ve stayed at home.” He starts pacing the room, annoyed at Mitch for being self-sacrificing at the stupidest of times.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. We don’t get to see our families that much. I didn’t want you to give up your time with them for me.”

“Mitchy, you are my family! You are the most important person in my life. You shouldn’t be alone at Christmas.” Tears pool in his eyes. He feels helpless, stuck thousands of miles away. He wants to hold Mitch and kiss him and tell him how much he means to him. Wow. He got a bit carried away there.

“I’m not alone. Wyatt and I have made a little nest on the sofa and we’re going to stay here until Daddy comes home, aren’t we baby?” Scott guesses that last part was aimed at Wyatt.

“What about if I came home on Boxing Day instead of the 28th?”

“Scott, no. It’s literally four days. I'll be fine,” he stresses.

“But Mitch,” Scott whines.

“No, Scotty. I am okay. Well, I'm disappointed and on my way to more than slightly tipsy but I'm okay. I promise. Just enjoy your time with your family. Tell Mom I said hi. I love you and we'll see you on Wednesday."

Mitch hangs up the phone without waiting for a response. Scott's left staring at his lock screen.

It's a photo of Scott and Mitch – one no one else has seen. It was never posted to Instagram or Snapchat. It was just for him. They're tucked up on the sofa, Mitch under his arm and leaning against his side, head resting in the space between his shoulder and neck, eyes closed. Scott remembers the moment well.

_He hates this. Hates when they get home from tour and all he wants to do is sleep and rest but his body says “haha, no, let’s go do something.” Normally he’d put it down to jetlag, but as the last few weeks of tour were spent in the US he can’t use that as an excuse. His body is on edge and his legs restless, brain running at a million miles an hour. If it wasn’t the middle of the night he’d go for a run but he can’t bring himself to leave the comfort of home so soon after getting it back. Maybe a cup of camomile tea will help. He hates the stuff but his mom swears by it._

_Scott throws the blankets off his legs and pulls on a pair of jogging bottoms. It’s hotter than a furnace in the apartment and with only Mitch about, he forgoes a shirt._

_Carefully opening his bedroom door, he steps out and bumps straight into Mitch. He grabs onto the smaller man’s waist to stop him ending up a crumpled heap on the floor._

_Once they’ve righted themselves, Scott leans against the wall with Mitch pressed all along his front. He feels good like this, fits perfectly and Scott hopes to God that his body doesn’t start rebelling against him. His dreams have only gotten more suggestive since they’ve been home. He can’t afford for them to become known now the object of his desire is in his arms and will be able to feel everything._

_“Oops,” Mitch giggles quietly into his hands, blush on his cheeks. He places a delicate hand on Scott’s bare chest and pushes until he’s standing upright. “Sorry, boo. What are you doing up?”_

_The skin Mitch is still touching burns and hums pleasantly. Scott tries not to squirm._

_“Couldn’t sleep. Was going to make some tea. Would you like some?” Scott whispers. He doesn’t want to break the intimacy of the moment by talking any louder._

_“Sure. That would be nice. Want to watch a movie?” Mitch moves his hand and steps away. He hopes the disappointment doesn’t show on his face. A second passes with Mitch staring at him before amusement sparks in his eyes. Mitch takes his bottom lip between his teeth amd looks up at him coyly for a moment before leaning forward and making himself comfortable against Scott’s bare chest, pressing a kiss to the centre. Surprised at the sweet gesture, Scott raises him arms and engulfs the smaller man against his chest for a moment before stepping away and walking towards the kitchen. He won’t be held accountable for his actions if Mitch stays pressed against him any longer._

_Ten minutes later, with tea made Scott enters the lounge to see Mitch has made a nest for them on the sofa with blankets and cushions. Candles are lit around the room giving it a soft glow. Mitch sits in the centre, looking up at Scott, eyes bright, face open and relaxed. It takes Scott’s breath away. After a world tour, with long days and late nights, it's really nice to see Mitch rested and healthy again._

_He looks away and rolls his eyes when he sees the opening menu for_ The Notebook _playing on the television._

_“Do you want to see me cry tonight?” Scott asks. He sits on the sofa and pulls a blanket across his lap. Mitch settles against his side, pulling his own blanket across his lap._

_“Hey, if you cry, I cry, so we’ll be even.”_

_Half an hour later, Mitch is fast asleep and leaning against Scott. Carefully lifting up his arm, Scott settles it back down around Mitch, pulling him closer to his side, placing a soft kiss to his forehead. In his sleep, Mitch snuggles into Scott’s neck, and when he places a kiss on the skin under him, Scott stops breathing. He reaches for his phone and snaps a photo before settling back down, intent on watching the rest of the movie, but ten minutes later, he, too, is asleep._

“That’s a cute photo. When was that taken?”

Scott whirls on the spot to face Connie, who he didn’t hear enter the room. He feels how wide his eyes are with panic, and tries to stammer out a response but his mom lifts her hands to silence him. She looks amused by his reaction and he can feel how red his face has gotten.

“Scott, calm down. I’m not going to say anything.”

He whines, “It isn’t like that.” He slips his phone into his pocket and takes a seat at the dining table.

“No?” Connie raises her eyebrows in disbelief. She sits down next to him and takes his hand in hers.

“No.”

“But you want it to be?” She says it like she already knows the answer and Scott supposes she does. Over the years he’s never tried especially hard to hide how much he feels for Mitch, even as a friend, and he knows his family liked Alex, but never like they loved Mitch.

It’s in the way his parents insist that Mitch call them “Mom and Dad”. It’s in the way his sister’s call and text Mitch on an almost daily basis just to talk. It’s in the way Landon’s face lights up whenever Mitch is in the room or on facetime if he can’t be there. Scott thinks his family is as in love with Mitch as he is, and he can't blame them for it.

Scott looks at his mom and sees the acceptance of his answer before he’s even given it and it gives him the strength to say, “Yes. Yes, I do.” As soon as he says it, he feels free and giddy and he can’t stop the laughter from welling up inside him. “Yes, Mom, I want it to be real. I love him. So much. He’s wonderful and beautiful. He makes me laugh and cry, but in a good way. Mitch is such a good fit for me. I _am_ in love with him, Mom. I’m in love with Mitch.”

A bright smile lights up Connie’s face. It’s full of love and pride. And if she doesn’t get rid of it it’s going to make him cry.

“Then why are you still sitting here? I raised you better than that, Scott Hoying. You find a way to get home. We'll all still be here in the New Year, but you need to tell that boy right now how you feel or you never will. I'm not waiting another fifteen years for you to build up the courage to admit it. And I refuse to let you do it over the phone.” She stands from the table. “I'm going to go pack your bag. You can phone the airline and see if they have any free seats.”

With that she leaves the room and a very surprised Scott behind, sitting dumbfounded at the table. Did that really just happen?

Almost like she knows he’s still sitting where she left him, she shouts, “Now, Scott,” and he obeys, jumping up from his seat and googling the number for an airline that’ll take him back to LA. Back to Mitch.

\--

Thirty minutes later, Scott drops down next to his dad on the sofa in defeat. There aren’t any free seats, not until after Christmas. Every airline is full. Feeling like he’s going to cry, he rests his head against his dad’s shoulder and sighs deeply.

Rick lifts his arm and puts it around Scott. They’ve never been especially tactile, his dad and Scott, a pat on the back or a kiss to the forehead if the occasion called for it, but like his mom, his dad knows when he needs a hug. He settles further into his dad’s arms and sighs again.

“What’s up, son?” Rick asks softly, trying not to draw attention to them.

“Mitch is alone and I love him and I need to get home to him,” he responds all in one breath. Risking a peek up at his dad’s face for his reaction, Scott is shocked when his dad laughs.

“That’s quite a predicament, Scotty. What are you going to do?”

“Which part?”

“Well, I could say you should tell him, but I guess your mother has already done that. I meant about getting home.” Rick removes his arm but stays pressed against Scott’s side.

“I tried to get a flight but they’re fully booked until after Christmas. I may as well just wait until Wednesday and tell him then.”

“Is that really what you want?” his dad asks, standing up from the sofa and walking over to the table pushed against the wall. He opens a drawer and rifles around until he finds what he was looking for.

“No, not really, but I’m all out of options, Dad.”

Rick closes the drawer and turns around, a set of keys dangling from his finger. He tosses them to Scott, who catches them easily.

“What are these?” Scott asks, turning the keys over in his palm.

“My car keys. It’s about a twenty hour drive as long as you stick to the speed-limit and I know you won’t but just, be careful.”

Scott’s jaw drops in shock. “What? I can’t take your car.”

“Yes, you can. I can use your mother’s if I need to. You're going to get home and if you set out early tomorrow, and stop for a few hours when you get tired, you’ll be home in time for Christmas morning.”

Not knowing what to say, Scott walks over to his dad and envelopes him in a hug, overwhelmed by the gesture. His dad is amazing. He can’t believe he’s giving him his car to drive home. He has the best parents and he says as much, making Rick laugh.

“You are my son and I want you to be happy. Now, you best get off to bed. It’ll be a long day tomorrow.”

He turns to leave the room, but stops at the doorway. Scott sees his sisters looking at him, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Thanks,” he whispers, lump in his throat. Thanks for the car, for the acceptance, for the love. _Mitchy, here I come_.

\--

_24 th December_

It’s coming up to 7pm and eleven hours on the road, passing through New Mexico into Arizona on a deserted I-10, when Scott’s phone beeps with a message. Double-checking there are no other cars around, Scott slips his phone out of the holder and opens the notification.

It’s a photo from Mitch of Wyatt curled up on Scott’s pillow with the caption ‘Someone misses their Daddy’. He chuckles before sending back ‘Tell him I miss him too. And you, I suppose’ with a winky face and a million heart emojis. A bit excessive maybe, but the closer Scott gets to home, the more excited he gets.

After fifteen years of friendship, after ten years of realising he likes Mitch as more than just a friend, after five years of knowing he’s in love with said friend, he’s finally on his way to tell him how he feels. It’s scary and exhilarating and he keeps bursting into laughter randomly as he drives. He feels giddy and excited. And then the nerves kick in, welling up in his chest until he can’t breathe and he has to slow down until he can get it back under control.

What if Mitch doesn’t feel the same? Will he have to move out? Will it make being in the band awkward? Will he lose his best friend?

There’s so many ways it could play out. He has no idea if Mitch even feels the same.

Does Mitch already have his eye on someone else? Is Scott going to be good enough for him?

Two hours later, he’s driving through Tucson looking for a motel to stay at for the night. Coffee has long since stopped working, and if he doesn’t get some sleep, he’ll drive off the road and that won’t be good for anybody. Pulling into the first motel he sees that doesn’t look like something out of a horror movie, Scott tugs his bag out with him and checks into a room.

Flopping onto the bed, Scott slips his phone out of his pocket. He flips through his contacts until he pulls up a familiar number.

“Scooter, you okay?” There’s loud shouting and singing from the other side, and he struggles to hear the greeting.

“Hi Kirst. You got a second? Sorry to disturb your holiday.”

“Yeah, of course. Is everything okay? How’s the family doing?” Kirstie replies. Scott can hear a door open her side and then close, and then silence.

“They’re good. I’m not actually with them at the moment. I have a question.”

Scott knows he needs someone else’s perspective on this. If it’s going to be anybody, it needs to be Kirstie. She’s in the band so she’ll be able to give that side of it, but more importantly, she’s also one of his best friend. If anyone can tell him if this is going to be a good idea or not, it’ll be her. Doesn’t make it any less nerve-wrecking to admit it though.

“Shoot, Scott. How can I help?”

“Say, hypothetically, I was in love with Mitch, how do you think he'd take it if I told him?” Scott rushes it all out in one breath. A scream sounds from the other side of the call and he drops the phone in shock. When the sound dies down, he tentatively lifts it back to his ear. “Kirst? You okay?”

“OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. Finally! I can’t believe this is happening. Do you know how long I have been waiting for this moment? Scooter, you need to tell him. Right away.” Kirstie says it all really fast, Texan accent slipping back in. He knows he made the right decision calling her.

Laughing at her enthusiasm, he says, “I am. I am. I’m on my way home.”

He proceeds to tell her everything; about Mitch being on his own, about telling his parents the truth, about how he couldn’t get a flight, but how his dad gave him another option. And then he starts from the beginning; tells her about realising how he felt but too scared to do anything about it, how he didn't want to ruin their friendship, or put the band in harms way if it went wrong. Before he knows it three hours have passed and it’s nearly midnight. Scott rubs his tired, scratchy eyes, reminding himself he needs to take out his contacts before going to sleep.

“So, how are you going to do it?” Kirstie asks, just as he’s about to say goodnight to her.

Scott rolls onto his side, clutching his phone tightly in his hand. “I have no idea. Was hoping that I’d see him and just know.”

“I’m so happy for you, Scooter. You have nothing to worry about. If our girl has a head on his shoulders, he’s already madly in love with you too.”

“Thanks Kirst. I love you. Speak to you soon.”

He ends the call a lot more relaxed about the whole situation than he’s been all day. Kirstie reassured him that no matter what happened, Pentatonix would be fine. They all loved the band and the music and the fans far too much to let anything stand in the way of that. And she didn’t laugh at him and tell him he was being ridiculous. She listened to him and let him voice his worries and doubts about it, and gave him her take on it without anymore screaming. Not once did she tell him not to do it.

He makes a mental note to send her a bouquet of flowers after Christmas before settling down to sleep.

\--

_25 th December_

Pulling up in front of the house, Scott turns the car off and leans back heavily against the seat. The house looks dark and uninviting like this. No lights on. No decorations. It looks like no one lives there. It makes the butterflies in his stomach flutter uncomfortably and a sicky feeling wells in his throat. Swallowing down his nerves, he pulls out the keys and steps out the car. He pulls his bag out of the boot and walks up the driveway to the door.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he puts in his key and unlocks the door. Walking up the stairs, Scott takes in how silent the house is. When he gets the top he sees all the curtains are drawn. Wine bottles litter the coffee table, blankets strewn across the floor. He sighs when he realises that Mitch lied when he said he’d be fine. Mitch always needs people around him, even if they’re just another presence in the room not saying anything. Scott drops his bag by the sofa.

“Scotty?” He spins on the spot and sees Mitch leaning against the door frame towards the bedrooms. Mitch is cocooned in a blanket, head peeking out the top. His feet and legs are bare. “What are you doing here? You should be at home with your family.”

“I know,” he replies, walking slowly towards his friend. When he gets to Mitch, he pulls him into his arms, Mitch tucking his head beneath his chin. He’s warm and snug in the blanket and it makes Scott’s heart ache to know he’s been alone for two days. “I got off the phone to you and Mom talked some sense into me. She said ‘home is not where, but whom’. Mitchy, you are my home. It didn’t feel right being there, knowing you were here by yourself.”

Mitch pulls away and sighs, readjusting the blanket across his shoulders. Scott can see he’s still wearing his tank top. “I _am_ an adult, Scott. I’m capable of being alone for a few days.”

Scott cocks his eyebrow and looks behind him. “Well, those wine bottles did not drink themselves.” He turns back to Mitch and reaches for one of his hands. “Why can’t you just accept I wanted to be with you today?”

“How did you even get here?” Mitch asks, avoiding the question. Scott lets him sidestep him into the lounge. Mitch puts the blanket on the sofa and collects all the empty bottles, taking them into the kitchen. Scott follows behind him and jumps up to sit on the counter as Mitch studiously arranges the bottles on the side.

“Dad gave me his car.”

Mitch whorls on the spot to face him, an incredulous look on his face.

“Scott, that’s a fifteen-hundred mile drive.”

“I’m very aware of that. My back is killing me,” he jokes.

Scott knows Mitch doesn’t believe that he’d do anything for him. He’s going to spend the next fifty years of his life telling Mitch he’s worth it but for now, he didn’t spend the last day driving to argue about whether he should or shouldn’t have done it. He slides off the side and crowds Mitch against the opposite counter, putting his arms either side of the smaller man so he can’t escape.

A questioning gaze settles on Mitch’s face but he doesn’t try to move.

“I needed to tell you something and it couldn’t wait.” Scott takes a deep breath and steels himself. Gazing into the eyes of the person he has loved for most his life, he says, “I couldn’t wait another moment to tell you that you're the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m so lucky I met you all those years ago. You are beautiful, inside and out. You’re kind and caring and thoughtful. I love that you get me Starbucks if I’m still sleeping. I love that when I’m stressed you do everything in your power to keep me calm, and if it doesn’t work, you make sure I know you’re there. I love that when I wake up your face is the first I see and one of the last one’s before I go to sleep, no matter what city, what country, what continent we’re in, and I want it to be that way until we’re old and grey. You give my life meaning. You make me want to be a better person. You make me want to scream from the rooftops that I’m damn lucky to have you in my life, and if I have to spend the next million years telling you that you’re worth driving halfway across the country for, I’ll do it. Mitchell Grassi, I love you. I love you with everything that I have, everything I am and everything I ever will be.”

Slowly a smile takes over Mitch’s face that could light up the whole street. Reaching up a shaking hand Scott brushes away stray tears that have fallen and smiles back. They stand there looking at each other for what feels like hours, but Scott knows it can only be minutes.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Mitch asks, smiling slyly up at him and all the nerves, worries and doubts about what he’s said disappear.

He laughs before cupping Mitch’s face in his palms.

“Hell yeah, I’m going to kiss you. I’m going to kiss you so much you ask me to stop.”

“Never gonna happen, big boy.”

They meet in the middle. Scott slides his arms around Mitch’s shoulders as Mitch puts his around Scott’s waist. Lips brush lips; softly at first before desire takes over and Scott’s pushing his tongue into Mitch’s mouth, meeting Mitch’s in a heated dance that makes Scott’s spine tingle and his toes curl. They kiss until they struggle for breath, and although Scott would love nothing more than to take Mitch against the kitchen counter, he knows that he needs to hear Mitch say ‘I love you’ back before it feels real.

He pulls away, chest heaving and lips raw. When he opens his eyes, Mitch is already looking up at him.

“Damn,” Mitch exclaims, giggling softly. “I can’t believe I’ve waited years to do that.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Scott replies, cheeks aching from smiling so widely. He cups Mitch’s face again, sweeping his thumb back and forth. Mitch nuzzles into the gesture, placing a kiss to the centre of Scott’s palm before pulling his hands away and holding them between them.

“Why didn’t _you_ say anything?” Mitch counters.

“I was scared, I guess. I didn’t want to lose you if I got it wrong.”

Mitch laughs, loudly and unabashedly. “Scott, I've loved you since I was thirteen. There was no way you could've got it wrong.”

Scott groans, leaning down and hiding his face in Mitch's shoulder. The angle isn't the best, but when Mitch rubs his back softly, he has to stop himself from purring.

"I love you so much, Scotty," Mitch whispers in his ear.

"Love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> Social media links in bio.


End file.
